EP to get you through the weekend and/or breakup: ‘Suicide Seating,’ by Anastasia Markov

Friday

Jan 3, 2014 at 7:28 PMJan 3, 2014 at 7:31 PM

Connecticut’s Anastasia Markov has a bit of a wicked streak, and it’s extremely evident in the songs packaged on the EP “Suicide Seating,” which you can listen to here. In just six songs Markov — who is performing Jan. 9 at The Lucky Dog Music Hall, 89 Green St., Worcester — creates a portrait that’s at turns brutally cold, emotionally raw and — perhaps most importantly — giddily fun to listen to.

But make no mistake: Anastasia Markov will cut you. Take, for example, the song “Son Just Don’t,” wherein the song’s persona wishes an escalating series of disasters on an ex-boyfriend — the word “son” here is used in the sense of “close friend,” and ironically at that — and when, dejected and battered, he shows up at her doorstep again, she kicks him to the curb.

“You show up at my door/ late one night/ looking for a place to crash/ and I’m like/No/Pick up your things and go.”

There are a lot of elements at play on this EP, bits of alt.-folk, garage rock and a ’50s sort of sugar fix. It’s a delicious cocktail, and highly addictive. In a lot of ways, she sounds like an American answer to Lily Allen, with her sharp tongue and penchant for foul language. The swearing never feels gratuitous, though.

While songs such as “Heavy Metal,” “Dawn,” “Snails” and the lovely “When You Dream” are great, Markov shines brightest on the upbeat and bouncy “Sarah Wont’ Cry.”

“As if scared of the sky,” sings Markov, in a voice that lilts and bounces, “The kite won’t fly/I bet you Sarah won’t cry/(I bet you Sarah won’t cry)/I’ll give her all she ever wanted/ Just to share-a the night/(I bet you Sarah won’t cry)/I’m guessing that there is a lesson/But apparently I/Am dumb with this love [expletive]/But it’s/Only Sarah in my/Eyes.”

The notes cascade, the guitar careens, and there’s a Buddy Holly sort of spirit to the whole thing that keeps everything light and moving. The persona’s affection is never doubted, and her self-castigation burns convincingly.

Markov reserves a good many shots for herself, but really, it’s hard not to enjoy her more lacerating moments, such as on “Heavy Metal,” where she sings, “And every time I’m mad at you/I only did what I had to do/to move on/From you and all of your [expletive].”

It’s those brutal, straightforward moments of honesty that sell the album, those things we’ve all wanted to say to someone at one point or another. Markov says them for us, and the words taste delicious as you sing along. (Victor D. Infante)